She caught my attention
She was young Vibrantly beautiful
What I spied special about her
She was sprouting
Not from nourished soil
But from dust and dirt
Collected within
A craves on a brick wall.
I'll be letting her be
For my curiosity
Got the best of me
Will be Contemplating
Her budding, blooming
And blossoming
Into a beautiful wild Flower
Scenting the clean air
Surrounding my presence.
WOW! ALL THAT FOR A WEED...YOU ARE SO VERY GOOD WILLIAM. GOD HAS GIVEN YOU LOVE THAT YOU CAN FEEL SO DEEP...EVEN A WEED. LOVED THIS! THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Weeds can be beautiful, especially when they cannot choke another flower or plant. It's amazing how some can grow out of a rock or a brick. They defy logic. Now isn't that grand! Excellent insight William. Don't listen to a lesser man. Amen
I craves veggies growing out of brick wall crevices. ;-) Serially, that was one poignant poem about how sweet and resilient nature can be.
On the other hand, I recall my grandmother living in a substantial brick farmhouse with vines over it. Across the road, she owned an old wood run down farmhouse, that she rented out. Not so many years later, I passed by the old farm and noticed that the wood farmhouse and been renovated and looked quite good. My grandmother's farmhouse was gone. The roots of the vine had destroyed the brick façade, killing the house before its time.
Now Bill, you KNOW I had to comment on this as you also know what I thought when reading the title...the majestic weed of the smokable variety...but if you are having a bit of a relationship with the weed you speak of, then I suggest therapy...;-) LOL, -e-
Ahhh...the WEED...Loved your words, when you see beauty do not pluck it but savor with your eyes. I too write poems,stories and articles pertaining to them, I also choose to live as a weed outside the box of Life, as "WEEDS" are survivors..
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Regis
Wildflowers are beautiful in blossom. Their presence
is so welcome in a meadow or along the paths we walk.
Great poem William.
Lady Mary Ann
On the other hand, I recall my grandmother living in a substantial brick farmhouse with vines over it. Across the road, she owned an old wood run down farmhouse, that she rented out. Not so many years later, I passed by the old farm and noticed that the wood farmhouse and been renovated and looked quite good. My grandmother's farmhouse was gone. The roots of the vine had destroyed the brick façade, killing the house before its time.
Ron
KOOL.................
TRASK...
Love ya!
Jane